


Knock on Wood

by caralavender



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Childhood Friends, Childhood Sweethearts, Eventual Romance, F/F, F/M, Female Friendship, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, LGBTQ Themes, Quidditch, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, Teacher-Student Relationship, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:34:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26829697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caralavender/pseuds/caralavender
Summary: What do you call sleeping with your Defense Against Dark Arts professor who also happens to be her best friend's sister's fiance and your ex-boyfriend's Godbrother/literal God? For Charlie Wood, that's just her life—she's still working on the punchline.
Relationships: Dominique Weasley/Original Female Character(s), Dominique Weasley/Original Male Character(s), James Sirius Potter/Original Female Character(s), Katie Bell/Oliver Wood
Comments: 1
Kudos: 19





	Knock on Wood

The day probably would've gone exactly to plan, had Dominique Weasley not worn The White Dress.

In her defense, it was a very nice dress. Really—they don't make dresses like that anymore. Shorn high and made of white cotton, sort of like bedsheets, only it wasn't made of a bedsheet, it was a finely woven batiste. Dom liked that it _could_ havebeen made of bedsheets. Someone who didn't know her very well might've assumed that she made it herself on a whim, as if she was the sort of person to make things out of whatever was around. 

(She also liked the plunging neckline. Plus, its short length made her legs look ridiculously long.)

Indeed, it was a very nice dress. _The nicest_ , Charlie had pronounced once she completed the strenuous task of climbing up the humble, though never modest, abode of Bill and Fleur Weasley, into the third window to the right. It was practically tradition at this point, Dom leaving her window open for her best friend to come crawling in at questionable hours of the night. 

Fleur Delacour-Weasley did not happen to be very fond of unannounced visitors, especially that of Charlie Wood. In fact, some might even say she hated the girl. 

The matriarch wasn't completely unjustified in her disapproval of the young girl, nor was she alone—ever since the Incident of the Pierced Ears in first year, the adults of the Wotter clan (mostly Aunt Fleur and Uncle Percy) treated Charlie with trained suspicion.

Personally, Charlie thought the whole thing rather silly. She didn't think the Ears Incident was that big of a deal. After all, Dom's ears _were_ fine. It's not like they fell off or anything. And Charlie's ears had _actually_ fallen off before. 

(It was during her apparition license exam. She can't remember most of that day and no, she does not want to talk about it.) 

But Fleur said otherwise and her word was always final. It had been a particularly peaceful morning, the sky clear and without the fog drifting in from the sea, when Dom stormed down to breakfast with a pair of silver studs in her freshly pierced, not to mention, reddening ears. 

Fleur nearly bursted a vein. It all felt very purposeful, Dom altering her appearance in the face of her mother, who placed a great deal of importance on the face. 

_Relax_ , Dom had said with a sort of ease that she must've practiced in the mirror because, knowing Dom, she was not someone that just did things. A moment for panic and regret before she actually had anything to regret was always necessary. That, she got that from her mother, heart palpitations where she was supposed to react. 

_Charlie did it for me_ , she explained. _Plus, she washed her hands._

Fleur inquired about the needle sterilization process and watched as Dom's face went white. One emergency room trip to St. Mungo's, plus two respective freakout from the hypochondriac mother and daughter duo later, Charlie Wood was banned from the Shell Cottage.

That, of course, didn't happen. The "permanent" ban lasted about a total of twenty-seven hours before a handful of Bernie Botts came knocking on Dom's bedroom window. Dom, enthralled at the sight of her budding friend, let out an excited squeal that did not go undetected by the sharp ears of Fleur Delacour-Weasley. 

She spent the remainder of her first year begging her mother to give her best friend another chance. And eventually, she gave in, inviting Charlie to her first Wotter Christmas dinner the next year. And so, when Charlie arrived to the Burrow with three piercing in one ear and four in the other, it was not Fleur, but Uncle Percy and Aunt Audrey who were aghast. 

Her piercings were enough evidence for Uncle Percy and Aunt Audrey, but the rest of the Wotter adults really didn't mind. After all, it was only a few piercings. Dom's own father was guilty of the same crime. Their suspicions were pinpointed the following year when Charlie showed up to the Burrow for Christmas dinner, this time with a tiny gem in her nose, smelling strongly of something green.

  
( _Christmas colours_ , She had said to a bemused Dom, gesturing to her potent sweater and reddened eyes.)

At thirteen years old, the young girl had a distinctive air about her; she kept herself well-composed, in the way that adolescents are not expected to be. When that happens, adults and peers tend to look at you with either awe or disapproval. For Charlie, it was the latter. 

But, for she was also terribly stubborn, Charlie refused to adjust herself in order to make the grown adults feel comfortable. 

(She never told Dom this, but she thought it was weird that her mother had one-sided drama with a near-child.) 

It didn't help that she wasn't much of a talker. Dom desperately wished that her best friend would vocalize the wit that she often displayed in the sanctuary of the Gryffindor girls dormitory, but it was of little avail. She wasn't much of an emoter either. Often times, she appeared withdrawn which, depending on who was judging, translated to boredom.

She probably was—Charlie was hard to impress. Unfazed by the celebrity of the Wotter family, she simply treated them how she treated most people. Cooly, and from a distance. It didn't bruise their egos, but it was unsettling, to feel as if a child is looking down on you. 

Charlie, however, did not think she was superior in any way. It just felt too embarrassing to be so emotional all the time, the antithesis to the Wotter philosophy of life.

(In other words, shout indignantly, bet ten galleons on virtually everything, group hugs, overdramatize life, and meddle in places you shouldn't.) 

Plus, she figured they wouldn't want her to make a big fuss. After all, her father's brief, but record-breaking stint in professional Quidditch made her aware of the downfalls of celebrity, to a much lesser degree than Harry Potter. 

As it currently stood, they didn't like her and they really didn't trust her. "Don't worry, Charlie Wood will be there!" was not a sentence commonly spoken out loud. Secretly, they blamed her for any trouble Dom got into, which was a fair amount, but nothing like what Freddie and James or even Roxie got into. 

Then again, George Weasley and Angelina "Big Ange" Johnston didn't really care what their kids did, as long as they didn't kill anyone. 

(Even that was up for debate. George had been heard, on several occasions, telling his daughter that he would make sure Uncle Harry's eyes were closed if she ever wanted to murder her two-timing bastard of an ex-boyfriend.)

As for James Sirius Potter, he was a case exception. Trouble was written into his name, so what was to be expected? He got good enough marks, at least to satisfy his parents and the Auror office. Besides, he had a sort of humour to the way he did things, a sort of tongue-in-cheek, lighthearted charm that others (Charlie, apparently) did not possess. 

That is all to say, Dominique Weasley was not afforded the same allowance that her cousins got. 

She blamed it on her dad, who was perpetually working, and her mother, who had pathological control issues. She also understood that, as a girl who loved all things girly, she was rarely taken seriously and often treated as if she was a fragile thing. 

But mostly, Dom blamed her older sister who had never made a mistake in her life, the very thing she was supposed to do in order to secure her younger siblings an easy childhood. 

But no, Victoire just had to be bloody perfect at everything—even as a baby. She did the obligatory fuss and cry for a while, and then she learned that it was better to shut up and stay quiet and obedient. 

Dom was never good at that. She was better at working in opposition, the black sheep of the family. She was too much. Too much pride for a well-aimed joke to land. And she took things seriously, much too seriously. "Lighten up!" was a phrase she grew accustomed to and despised.

That was one thing that bonded her and Charlie. They were both unapproachable. The only difference was that Charlie liked it that way. Dom, who had spent her entire life waiting for someone to approach her, could not understand why that was. 

Maybe that's why she decided to wear the white dress that night. She wanted to start something. The thought of potential sabotage plans skimmed over Charlie's mind as she sprawled upside down on Dom's bed, watching the blonde witch twirl around in the full-length mirror.

"It is a nice dress," Dom said quietly to herself, admiring the way it sat on her body. Loose, but there was something underneath. It gave her an air of mystery. 

"It is," Charlie agreed. "But aren't you not supposed to wear white to a wedding?" 

"It's their engagement party," Dom said, rolling her eyes. "Not the actual wedding."

"Okay," said Charlie, who was still dressed in a large hoodie and jeans. She hadn't bothered to change yet, not that she really wanted to. A front row ticket to Victoire Weasley and Teddy Lupin's PDA was guaranteed to turn her stomach in revolt.

"I can't believe she's going to marry him." Her throat sounded constricted, as if she would cry if she was to say anything more.

Something probably happened with her and Victoire, Charlie realized. It was a good thing Dom was easily distracted.

"Why? You have a crush on Professor Lupin?" The bleach-blonde girl grinned, revealing the slight gap between her front teeth. In response, Dom swatted her with a pillow. 

"Oi!" Charlie bolted upright from the bed, throwing it back at her. She smacked it away with a single swipe of the hand and the two burst out laughing at the exact same time. Charlie was probably the only person who could tease Dom without it turning into a whole ordeal. 

"Maybe you should be the one on the Quidditch team," She quipped.

"No, that's definitely you," Dom replied easily."You know James is captain this year and he would do anything to have you back on the team. Especially since this year is our last..."

Charlie rolled her eyes. She didn't understand why Dom was so hellbent on making their last year at Hogwarts the best yet. She was quite content with hating the entirety of her Hogwarts career. Why complicate it any further?

And of course, Dom just _had_ to slip in the bit about rejoining the team.

Dom rolled her eyes back. She knew better than to stress it any further. "Get dressed, would you?" 

The girl grunted in response, dragging herself off the bed and rummaging through Dom's closet while lazily pulling at her clothes. 

Quidditch was a touchy subject ever since she quit rather abruptly in third year. The entire Gryffindor house hated her for that while the Slytherins declared her a hero. It was a sure win for Gryffindor, had their Quidditch legacy not quit only a month before the Cup. She had stormed off the pitch, flipping then-captain Joey Parker the bird and declaring him a wanker, seemingly without any reasons.

(She had her reasons.)

Charlie landed on a particularly promising top, drowning in the sea that was Dom's overloaded closet. "Am I supposed to wear a dress to this thing?" 

"No, but Maman will combust if you come dressed in that top to her dearest daughter's engagement party." Dom pointed a finger at the sheer black top Charlie was looking at with interest.

"She goes absolute bonkers if she ever sees a bra strap," She added. 

"Who said I was going to wear a bra?" Charlie said this without any inflection. If it wasn't for her quirked-up mouth, Dom wouldn't have known if she was joking or not. She seldom did wear one anyways. James and Freddie even had a running bet on whether or not she'd wear a bra to X event. Today, the X happened to be the engagement party. 

"I wasn't going to wear the top," She resolved. "I just wanted to know if I could wear pants to this thing."

"Sure. Hey, should I wear a bra with this?"

That was Dom, always steering the conversation back to herself. Charlie didn't mind, though. She kind of preferred it that way. 

"No. It _is_ white, after all."

"That's what I was thinking!" She admired her reflection once more. Anyone who said Dominique Weasley wasn't all that attractive was lying to themselves and their eyes.

The entire Wizarding World was practically in love with her. Her heart-shaped face faired well with her bright smile, her mouth a wide curve of pink and cheeks plump. When she was much younger, her hair was, to her mother's distaste, a strawberry blonde but as she grew older, it faded into a comfortable shade of blonde, stopping just before the waist. She despised her nose, finding it a hair too long. But she had magnificent eyes—lifted and soft, clear and coloured like the sky. They were the main event, the rest were all structured around it. 

The look on her face was curious and without assurance, despite all her beauty. She had a habit of opening her mouth and closing it, as if she was never quite sure of what to say. She hadn't ever had a proper boyfriend, only a string of relationships that never got defined past second base. 

Not like Victoire, she thought bitterly. 

"Is the thing outside?"

"Yeah. Ridiculous idea, by the way."

"Why? Is it windy or something? Hey, I dare you not to wear any underwear with your dress."

"I reject your dare," Dom said flatly. "Do you need help choosing something to wear?"

Without waiting for an answer, the blonde girl shouldered past, scanning the closet for a suitable outfit. Growing up with a brother and a mother who didn't even own makeup, Charlie worn her brother's hand-me-downs until Dom introduced her to the expansive world of Witch Weekly and Amour Propre, full of possibilities to experiment. Back in fifth year, the two used to parade around dressed like the Weird Sisters, eyes lined in smudged kohl and red lips. 

(Charlie still did the liner around her eyes. She thought it made her look more interesting.)

"Here," Dom said, handing her a silky sort of fabric. "It's a dress, but I swear, it's comfortable."

"Pink," Charlie wrinkled her nose with disdain but she seemed pleased that she wouldn't have to wear a bra with it and it was fairly easy to get in and out of.

"I wore it for Valentine's in fourth year," Dom said. "Remember?"

"The Pink Dress?"

"Yes, The Pink Dress."

"The one you gave Brett Flaunders a handy in?"

"...Yes."

"I'm honoured." Charlie held up the delicate slip to her figure in the mirror. She felt rather silly wearing something so soft and feminine over something far too rough at the edges. It felt like a mistake, a futile attempt to look more palatable. 

As if she could read her mind, Dom said: "Don't worry, you look good. It contrasts with your whole messy-on-purpose thing. In a good way."

Charlie took a second look in the mirror. The person who Dom saw and the person Charlie saw were always different people—she preferred living through Dom's eyes. She liked what she saw much better.

"Right," She agreed. "Then no need to straighten my hair, right?"

"Not worth the effort," Dom shrugged. "It is only Vic and Teddy's engagement."

"What'd you reckon Vic is gonna do when she sees you in white?"

"Throw a fit. Hopefully she'll break something."

Charlie knew that she didn't really mean it. 

"Do you think your mum's going to talk about my tattoo?"

"As long as she doesn't see the one on your lower back. Dad's got a few, she doesn't mind those."

"Why does your mum not let you do any of the cool things your dad has?"

"'Cause she's a bitch?"

"Aren't we all?" 

"Not you."

"No, especially me," Charlie said, shaking her head.

"No," Dom frowned. She never understood why Charlie was so convinced that she was a terrible person. "You're the only girl in the castle who refuses to gossip about another girl. I don't know how we've managed to stay friends for so long, honestly."

"I do too gossip."

"No, you don't. Not like everyone else. You'll just agree with me if I say so and so is a bitch, but you don't ever say anything."

"I just don't say a lot."

"No, you don't gossip—you're usually the one being gossiped about."

Dom was right. Charlie had earned quite the reputation at Hogwarts, either for being the Astronomy Tower slag, the slag who lost Gryffindor the Cup in Third Year, or Oliver Wood's slag daughter. That title of the school's slag was a gradual process, but it was already branded on her the moment she had taken scissors to the school uniform skirts. 

(Dom declared her an honourary member of the Weird Sisters circa the late 80's. The castle declared her a slag.)

It also didn't help that she had knicked her father's old oversized blazer from his Hogwarts days. People thought she got it from an older boy. Then, after a rumour spread that Charlie Wood blew the entire Ravenclaw Quidditch team in all in one night, her reputation was fixed firmly in place.

She didn't even deny it. Charlie had a problem with saving face. She preferred to stick out her chin indignantly and embrace the rumours. 

(In hindsight, that wasn't the best idea.)

"Hmph," Charlie checked her appearance in the mirror before turning to face Dom. "I think I'm ready."

She wasn't wearing a bra. Maman was going to have a fit.

* * *

Victoire Weasley and Theodore Lupin's engagement party was in a big white tent, situated near the Shell Cottage on a sanded beach. The weather was actually quite lovely, the sun kissing everybody's cheeks twice and the breeze rippling the tent sheets gently. 

"Look at that," Dom scoffed, nudging Charlie who was busy downing a glass of champagne before Fleur started policing the underage drinking. 

"Huh—oh, the gift bags?" On top of the ceremonial table near the back of the tent sat a pile of neatly decorated gold bags that appeared to be glittering with some illuminous substance. 

"She used fairydust. I was going to use fairydust for my wedding giftbags—she stole my idea!"

"I don't think she knows tha—"

"Oh, no. She definitely knows." Dom growled. "Bitch."

Ever since the two witches arrived, Charlie got a sense that Dom had set it upon herself to do something incredibly stupid tonight. The lack of welcoming and attention they received—including The White Dress—may have pissed her off more than Victoire herself. If there was one thing Dom loved, it was attention. 

Charlie, on the other hand, didn't really love it so much, though she seemed to attract it whenever she arrived. Arrived is an overstatement of how she entered rooms, in the sense that she didn't. Not in the grandest sense of the word at least. She preferred to slip into spaces, even if it made it harder to get out. 

"Would you take that blazer off? I know it was your dad's but the pink and the black—" Dom started to say but Charlie cut her off with a shake of the head. 

"It's cold," She explained against the logic of the summer heat and evidence of the perspiration budding on her forehead.

"Seriously, Charlie, you're sweating. And it's kinda gross."

"You're gross."

"No, you're gross."

"I said it first."

"No, I said it firs—"

"Nini," called Freddie Weasley. Dom swiveled around to face her cousin, scowling at her nickname. "Morning Wood!" Charlie grinned at hers.

"Freddie," Dom nodded back. The boy had grown over the summer, if that was even possible. He was now well over six feet, towering over the two girls. "Strange to see you without Thing One by your side."

Fred pouted. "Why am I Thing Two?"

"Because I'm always Number One," James Sirius Potter announced, draping an arm over his cousin and winking at the girls. He said it so easily, the only proper response was to laugh. Whether he believed it or not, that was unclear. "Nini. Hello, Loch Ness."

This time, Charlie was the one to scowl. "Don't call her that," Dom said. James held his hands up mockingly.

"Hey," He said. "Take that up with her parents, not me."

Charlie cursed her parents for the name bestowed upon her. Her mother wanted to give her the name of Cher, inspired her favourite Muggle singer. Her dad wanted to name her either Golden Snitch or Quaffle, inspired by a Golden Snitch and a Quaffle. As one could probably infer, they both lacked a creativity that all parents need in order to properly name their babies. Otherwise kids ended up with names like Loch Ness as if that's okay.

Loch Ness, by the way, was her given first name.

She understood the logic behind this as much as the next person.

Oliver Wood would've begged to differ. He named her after the Loch Ness monster, simple as that. Back in Hogwarts, when he was just the Gryffindor Quidditch captain/tyrant and her mum was spunky Chaser Katie Bell, they didn't really pay much attention to one another. That was until one fateful day, when Katie innocently mentioned the Loch Ness monster at practice. Oliver practically busted a nut.

Turns out they both had a peculiar kinship to the Loch Ness monster and consequently, indoctrinated it in their family.

"Potter," Charlie rolled her eyes slightly. "Never call me Loch Ness or else—"

"What, you'll hex me?" His lips were curled up at the sides as he pushed back his sleeves to reveal his own wand. "That would require actually knowing how to use your wand, Wood."

If this little comment bothered her, she didn't show it. Charlie's face remained impassive, despite her OWL results arriving only days before.

(She didn't do well. Then again, she never did well.)

"Oi!" Dom cut in. "She might not, but I do!"

"I do," Charlie muttered to herself quietly. 

"I was only kidding," James said to Dom, but his eyes remained trained on Charlie. "Aren't you supposed to let the bride wear white?"

"She's not the bride yet," Dom retorted. "Besides, it's not like its the law or anything—Vic would know."

She was studying to be a lawyer because, once again, Victoire was absolutely perfect.

Just as James was about to open his mouth to reply, Charlie nudged Dom's side and jerked her head to the right. 

Lysander Scamander (ridiculous name, by the way) was on the other side of the tent in a lavender coloured suit.

He wasn't all that attractive, really. Even Dom knew that, but she liked that about him. Secretly, she enjoyed dating ugly boys. Not that he was ugly, he just wasn't beautiful. Which was fine. Dom liked how his light blue eyes were obscured by his dark eyebrows and how his cheeks caved in. She thought he looked quite handsome. 

"You should talk to him," Charlie said. 

Dom shriveled away. That was one confusing thing about Dom. She was so confident, almost arrogantly so, not to mention bossy. But when it came to any boys she liked, she would curl into a ball and roll away.

"You do it," She said. "You're better at that than me."

"Not really," Charlie said. "Come on."

"Who?" Fred and James inquired, stretching out the O. 

"No one," Dom and Charlie said quickly. 

"Right," James said. "Chuck, a hint?"

Charlie blinked. She turned her head to Dom who was mouthing "Chuck?" to her. 

"I was trying out something new," James said, his cheeks now flushed with humiliation. 

"I'd rather you call me Whore Ness Monster," She replied cooly. That was another one of her nicknames the castle had so graciously given her. 

"Chuckie?" 

She scrunched her nose. "No."

"Woodchuck?"

Dom let out a laugh at that one before slapping a hand over her mouth.

"Hah!" James cried triumphantly. "Dommie dearest found that one clever."

"Not that clever," Charlie muttered. Then, to Dom: "Talk to him."

"I can't."

"Yes, you can."

"But he's—"

"Go!"

"Okay, fine."

After Dom stalked off, Charlie looked around the room awkwardly. James sighed. Fred cleared his throat. 

"So," Fred started. "Morning Wood, how is your summer?"

"Fine," She said in her laconic way. 

"Fantastic! And mine, well, I don't want to get into the details but let me just say, Ashley Gre—"

"Nope," James cut his cousin off. "We aren't talking about that."

"Hm," Charlie hummed. 

"Isn't anyone going to ask about mine?" James sounded so much like a little kid there, Charlie glanced up from examining the room only to come _vis-a-vis_ with a childhood memory of James. The way he stood in front of her, slightly sheepish and embarrassed, was more of the boy she remembered at seven rather than seventeen.

"How is your summer going, Jamesie?" Fred teased. As James launched into spewing some bullshit about Quidditch, Charlie found herself thinking about when he proposed to her, all nerves, fidgeting and stammering like a fool. Granted, they were seven back then, but at one point in time, they could've been considered twin flames. They even got fake married. Everyone used to refer to them as Charlie and James, never separately.

But of course, the complications of growing up tangled everything. Then, when they did reignite their childhood connection back in fourth year, things had gone rather to shit, fast. And then they weren't even friends anymore. 

(That really sucked, for the both of them.)

Charlie knew their friendship and romance was in the past. Frankly, she preferred it that way. Still, she couldn't help but wonder what life might be like if it wasn't.

"It sucks Al had to go to St. Mungo's, but it's not like I pushed him off his broom," James concluded his recap of the summer. "Speaking of Quidditch—"

"No," Charlie replied automatically. She already knew what he was going to ask and he should've known what her answer would be. 

"But Charlieeeeee," James whined. "Pleaaaassseee?" 

She rolled her eyes. He really was immature. Though he was cute, in an elementary sort of way. Warm hazel eyes, messy black hair, and a freckled nose—all his features were the type of features seen on so many passing faces, but never all at once, giving his face a sort of warmth and brilliance. Charlie liked his smile the best, though. It was what had earned him the top spot on Gwendolyn Sparks' hottest boys at Hogwarts list. His smile was always anticipating a joke, cheeks slightly pulled upwards and lips twitched. And when he did smile, he became breathtakingly beautiful. 

"No," She said after a brief pause. "I quit with the intention of never joining again."

"Liar," James said. "I see you flying around the Pitch in the mornings."

"Stalker," Fred coughed.

"It was an accidental sighting—"

"That is weird, Potter."

"Accidental—"

"Stalker."

"Fred, I will kill you."

"I'm trembling."

"I'll tell Ashley Greene that you—Ow!" Fred smirked, high-fiving Charlie over his skillful aim. James rubbed the side of his cheek pitifully, ripping off the rest of whatever Fred had thrown. 

"I can't believe you threw a deviled egg at me."

"Hor d'oeuvre, mate," Fred clapped his cousin on the shoulder. "Take it as a compliment."

Charlie giggled, a rare commodity. 

"Ten galleons Vic and Dom get in a fight before dinner is served," James proposed. 

Charlie blanched. "I'm not gonna bet on my best friend."

"Good thing I wasn't talking to you, Wood—"

"You were most definitely talking to Wood—"

"Freddie!"

"—but yeah, ten galleons." The two grinned at each other, shaking hands.

Charlie blinked. "You two have a problem."

"Right," James didn't miss a beat. "I suppose you're not going to be leaving in roughly five minutes or so with Dom to take your little smoke breaks, then?" 

"Yeah," She shrugged, as if to signify her conceit. "Well."

And just as the witch turned around to find Dom for one of their "little smoke breaks," all hell broke loose.

"You BITCH!" 

Somewhere, across the tent, an argument had been brewing between the Delacour sisters. It was brought on by The White Dress, no doubt, but exasperated by the gift bag situation.

"Ooh," Fred all but squealed with excitement, making his way over to the scene of action.

"Drama queen," muttered James, but he was still following after him.

"Damn it," Charlie said to herself, observing Fleur speedwalking towards the girls in teetering high heels and a stern look on her face. "She shouldn't have worn that dress."

They appeared to be fighting over the champagne bottle. Victoire was making hissing noises, a shocking sight for the party attenders who knew her as their poised and disciplined co-worker, cousin, niece, friend, whatever she might be. Dom, on the other hand, who was something of the black sheep of the family, was holding onto the neck of the bottle, hissing back. 

"Uncle Harry, can you translate for us?" Fred asked. James snorted so hard that his nose started to bleed. 

"I AM GOING TO KILL YOU!" That came, surprisingly, once again, from Victoire. While her scream seemed to startle everyone else in the tent, Dom was unfazed. 

"I'D LIKE TO SEE YOU TRY!" She yelled back, her voice just as shrill and piercing. Somehow, and some way, they were still holding onto the bottle as if their life depended on it.

"LET GO!" 

"YOU LET GO!" 

"YOU'RE RUINING MY ENGAGEMENT PARTY!"

"YOU'RE RUINING MY LIFE!" 

Charlie now found her way to the front of the circle gathering around the fighting sisters, grimacing as she saw what had captured part of the crowd's attention. The White Dress had proved to be not so nice during a game of tug of war. Dom's twisted torso and slightly bent back led to some shifting and, to make a long story short, her tit was out.

"Dom, your tits out!" She yelled. Dom froze, her face paling of all colour. Her eyes didn't dare to drift down to confirm such reality as reality. 

That's when it all happened, or rather, three things happened. The first being Teddy Lupin, who was looking particularly handsome in his suit. In the midst of the chaos, he caught Charlie's eye and winked, mouthing " _Bathroom in ten."_ The second being James Sirius Potter, who was also looking particularly handsome in his disheveled suit (he despised wearing ties), watching this exchange between his Godbrother and ex-girlfriend/ex-wife with a careful eye. 

And then the third—the cork of the champagne bottle burst up in the air, spinning upwards at great velocity while the champagne erupted in a carbonated surge. Everyone scampered away except for Dom, who was still frozen in the spot. Once it fell all over her, she squealed from both shock and embarassment.

"Just pull your dress up," Charlie begged internally. But it appeared Dom was still stuck in place. Her face was redder than ever before. It was a rare moment to see the Delacour girl falter. As her face broke off into pieces, she felt the entire world was savouring the discovery of a flaw on her surface.

And so in that moment, in the gaps within a singular second, she did the only thing a best friend could.

"Look over here!" and then Charlie Wood slid her arms out of the straps of her dress, letting the top fall down to reveal that indeed, she was not wearing a bra, and two, she would do anything for Dominique Weasley.

"You owe me ten galleons," Fred whispered to James who hadn't blinked since.


End file.
